Page 48 of Mismatched

She checks her phone again, this time straightening at whatever she sees. “Speak of the damn devil. Looks like he’s already done with her today.” She grits her teeth. “Guess I need to take off. Thanks, Lydia. Could we do this again, maybe get lunch or something sometime?”

“Of course. This was fun,” I say, and I mean it.

Francie brings Biscochito back out to reception, and Marisol makes for the door, leash in hand, but before she gets there, a thought occurs to me and I clear my throat.

“Hey, I’ve been bouncing around some ideas for expansion and could really use an objective opinion. Could I shoot you an email?”

Marisol grins. “Only if I can hit you up with subscription box concepts.”

I wave as she heads out the door. “It’s a deal.”

By the time I lock up Pooch Park II, everything outside is freshly soaked from an afternoon thunderstorm. We got super busy with deliveries after Marisol left, and it isn’t until I’m climbing in my SUV with Heartthrob that I realize I haven’t heard from Anton since lunch. I glance around the parking lot, half hoping to see his truck, thinking with a deep blush it wouldn’t be the first time I worked late and he came looking for me.

But there’s no sign of him.

I frown, checking my phone again, and that’s when I notice a missed text about a Vesper work dinner. It’s polite and matter-of-fact. Deferential. Gentlemanly. Exactly how he’s been treating me all week.

And for a few days, it was nice. I didn’t think at all about sex, or babies, or much of anything. I ate ice cream, wore my big, comfy underpants, and he just... gave me the space. But it’s started to feel like ages since I got a suggestive text, or received more than a chaste kiss on the cheek. And I have to admit I’m a little restless.

The irony of this feeling is not lost on me. There was a time, very recently, when Anton keeping his distance would’ve filled me with relief. It used to be second nature for me, working late, avoiding him physically. But things have shifted.

And... I don’t know. I get the sense he’s waiting for me.

Going off birth control must have messed with my cycle because it felt like I bled forever. My period finally ended three days ago, and I have had plenty of chances to make a move, but... I just don’t know how to start. I could ask Caprice for suggestions, though I can guess what she’d say. Which is how I find myself pulling into the parking lot of Playful Pleasures on my way home.

“I’ll be ten minutes, tops,” I say, cracking the windows for Heartthrob, grateful the rain cooled everything down. But as I force my feet toward the entrance of the sensual superstore for the second time in my life, checking over my shoulder for anyone who might recognize me, I can see why someone might subscribe to one of Marisol’s intimate boxes. Sex and kinks delivered directly to your home—no embarrassing store purchase necessary.

The beep of the front door startles me when I walk inside, but not as much as the sudden tightness in my chest. So many things in my life were still uncertain the last time I was here. I force myself to take a breath.

“Hi! Welcome to Playful Pleasures,” a woman calls from behind the counter. I recognize her Bettie Page hair and septum nose ring with a flood of relief and head straight to where she’s putting sale stickers on what looks like a large quantity of alien-like dildos.

“Hi.” I glance around the store, which is more crowded than the last time I was in here. “You um... I think you helped me before?”

She sets down her pricing gun. “I’m always happy to hear that. What can I do for you today?”

I glance at her name tag. Daphne, that’s right.

“I think you’d... well, my husband and I were still kind of... learning the basics last time I was in.” I swallow, too aware of my face turning red. “I guess now I’m looking for...” My voice trails off. What? What do I ask for? Something kinky? A flag that says period complete?

Daphne tilts her head, studying me. “Maybe you’re ready to take things to the next level?”

“Sure,” I blurt. I don’t even know what she means, but I’m dying for someone else to take the lead.

She looks at me, tapping her deep mauve lip. “Is there anything specific you two are into? Or maybe a direction you’re leaning? Role play? S&M?”

If my face gets any hotter, it’s going to burst into flames. There’s only one specific thing I can think of. One Anton mentioned on Unmatched when he thought I was someone else, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to say it out loud. Someone comes up beside me to check out at the next register, and I pivot away from them, ducking as close as I can get to Daphne across the counter.

“Um... I am pretty sure he wants to try butt play,” I say, barely above a whisper.

“Fun!” Her brows shoot up initially, but then she gives me an assessing look. “Is that something you’re interested in?”

My shoulders slump. I close my eyes, wondering if she asks everyone that question or if I am just that easy to read. “Not... really?”

“Okay, fair.” She gives me a reassuring smile. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s tons of fun to be had there. But not if you aren’t into it.”

I let out a relieved breath and glance over at the next register, surprised to see a petite elderly lady paying for her purchases. She takes her black plastic bag and gives me a warm smile. “I never let my husband in the back way either, honey.”

I look at Daphne, who waves and chuckles as the woman leaves. “Nice to see you, Arlene.”

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